


The Second Sunrise

by Dae_of_the_Past



Category: Satan and Me (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Child Abuse, Child Neglect, Gen, Past Child Abuse, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-07
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2018-04-13 10:16:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4518039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dae_of_the_Past/pseuds/Dae_of_the_Past
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael had promised- promised!- that she would go to Heaven when she died! Really, she would have even taken Hell if given half the choice! Anything would have been better than this! AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Awakening

**Author's Note:**

> On Fanfiction.net.
> 
> Disclaimer: Nothing owned.

Traffic swirled past the small central park of the town. Leaves rustled in constant motion and the delighted shrieks of children sounded over the occasional honking from passing vehicles.

Benches dotted the scene, filled with indulgent parents. Mothers laughed at the newest rumors as their husbands clustered at a distance from them, pretending to not do the same.

Throughout the play area the children swarmed in mass to be the next one on their favorite equipment, the slide. There was biting, clawing, and hair pulling in the struggle to get further ‘in line’ and it was only a matter of time before someone’s tears would attract the attention of adults.

However, one of these children had wandered away from the crowd and lingered in the shadow of one of the many trees within the park. The child crouched at the base of the tree, hand clutching her head and tugging at her hair.

“Oh god, oh god, ohgodohgod-“ her eyes were widened, enough to give clear view of her dilated pupils.

Quick, shallow breaths caught in her throat. How- why?

Michael had promised- promised her that’d she’d go to heaven once she died.

Fuck that, she would have preferred to go to Hell than- than this.

Her head snapped up, eyes scanning for a sign. Any sign that this was a dream or- or one of those flashbacks people said happened before death, but even as she stared the multitude of children, information failed to reach her brain.

Everything was just happening too fast- too loud. The children were loud- the adults were loud- the thrice damned grass was too loud. Everything felt like too much.

Her small- tiny really, so very tiny- hands moved to cup around her overly sensitive ears. Why was this happening? Whywhywhy- ?

Red caught her eye, red hair to be exact.

She stared blankly towards the source, not really processing what she was seeing.

Oh.

…oh.

A little red-headed girl, maybe five years of age- around the age she calculated her own physical body to currently be. Natalie.

She bolted to her feet. Natalie! She would know what to do, wouldn’t she?! She’d been through so many crazy things- more so than herself! Of course Natalie would have been brought back here, too-

Before her first step forward could be even taken, little Natalie turned to her, eyes searching. What do you want?

She froze. Yes, this was Natalie. No, she wasn’t the Natalie she had grown to admire over decades of interaction. Those sparkling, green eyes held none of the well-earned confidence that came with going through the worst that the world had to offer and come out mostly unscathed. The confident eyes that dared the world to try again.

She swallowed the bitter pill of disappointment and shifted her gaze away, shoulders slumping in defeat. Nothing, sorry.

So Natalie hadn’t come back, too. She didn’t remember living to her late nineties. She didn’t remember lying on her deathbed, surrounded by friends both human and not. She didn’t remember dying. And…

She didn’t remember waking up in a younger version of her own body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So… uh, no clue where this is headed exactly, or if it’ll be continued, but I needed to get it out of my head. As some people know, I’m very into the Time Travel genre, so of course my first fanfiction would be in that category. It hasn’t been beta-ed or anything so large chance of there being huge mistakes. Hope you enjoy~!


	2. Hope

“KRISTIIIII-!!”

She jolted out of her thoughts at the familiar voice. When had the sun crossed half the sky? How long had it been since her memories had come to her?

Another call for her presence came, sharper this time. Angrier. A shudder ran through her body.

Memories of what commonly came from such anger surfaced, fresh as if they’d happened only a week prior.

Adrenaline rushed through her veins, prompting her to stand. Her legs dragged her closer to the voice and shook with every step she took, threatening to buckle under her. Part of her hoped they would.

All too soon, she bypassed the shrubbery to lay her eyes on the source of the voice. Her father.

Her mother stood not too far behind him, both their faces reddened in a way she knew well. Dread pooled in her gut, sneaking up her throat and weighing on her tongue. Sweat slid down her the collar of her shirt.

Her parents. She had hoped to never see them again after she took off for college. It’d been a relief to learn of their passing. A car crash. Completely an accident.

Now though, now she was confronting them again. Her own pair of personal demons.

“Kristi! There you are! Where were you?” her mother exclaimed. Kristi stared. Why were they acting so… parental?

Glancing to her left, she spotted a small group of parents murmuring amongst themselves of their gladness to see her return to her parents safely. Oh. Of course. They wouldn’t go out of their way to make their neglect noticeable, at least not so early. It was only late into her second year of high school that they had stopped caring about how the neighborhood saw them as and by then, she’d been too used to covering up any accidental injuries that would bring the family any suspicion. Make up can do wonders.

…Horrible wonders.

A hand seized her shoulder, grip too tight to be considered loving. Nails dug into yet unscarred skin.

“Where have you been, sweetheart?” Her mother asked. The tone was too sweet, the smile too big. How could anyone believe her act? Sure, the act was warm and motherly when she squinted her eyes at each smile, but any falter in the gesture could expose the horrible coldness in her eyes.

Looking back, Kristi couldn’t remember ever once seeing warmth in those eyes. In contrast, her father’s eyes burned with fury and only ever dulled on his first beer. Any more and the fire flared in vengeance. Too bad it was never ‘just one.’

“I-“ her tongue caught in her throat, but the lie slid out like satin, “I got lost.” Lessons in lying by the best of them can do that.

Her father’s lips twisted, struggling to uphold the likeness to what a father was meant to be. The struggle was won and his shoulders slid down, appearing to the world as the very definition of calm. Despite this, red traveled up his neck, concentrating at his cheeks, “We should go home. It’s been a long day.”

Mother hummed in agreement and, after giving their farewells to a couple of friends, maneuvered Kristi towards the car, never once removing her hand. From that car, she trudged towards a house she had hoped to never see again.

Her eyes stung. This stupid house. It blended in well with those around it, the style being more or less the same. It didn’t look the part of a prison, but it had been. And now was once again.

The door closed behind her with an ominous creak. Real or not, here she was.

This was her hell.

…

A week passed in contemplation. Her parent’s treatment was not as bad a she remembered it to be. Or maybe it was?

With so many years of experience under her belt, she could take care of herself with only minimum assistance. Those being food, water, and some clean clothes. All the experience in the world wouldn’t help her get a job, no one would want to risk getting charged with child labor by hiring a five year old.

But to little, five-year-old Kristi, this could have been a terrifying experience. Being locked up in her room for a week as ‘punishment’? The door only opened so they could leave her food, like some dog!

While uncomfortable, she could deal with this just fine. A five-year-old girl who probably have to learn the hard way to make the food last as long as possible? Not so much.

Kristi entertained the idea of sneaking out somehow and running to the nearest police station. She could try it, though there was always the high chance of getting caught and accelerating her parent’s previously slow escalation in abuse.

She could of course wait until they got the bright idea to kick her out of the house for most of the day which would happen once she was old enough for this to not seem too strange to the neighbors. However, she had no idea what age they started to ‘encourage’ her to not be home before eight at night. It could be years from now!

Tomorrow. Tomorrow school would be in session after the week-long Easter Vacation. She’d go to a teacher then. Real or not, she wouldn’t be spending any more time in this hellhole.

If it wasn’t real, she’ll eventually wake up, either in her old body or as a newly born angel.

If it was real, well, she could hope something like this wouldn’t change the result of The End of Days.

…

Tuesday morning found Kristi mulling over her hair. Falling to her lower back, it was longer than she had let it grow to in a long time.

Part of her didn’t want to continue with the long hair nor the pigtails, but such a sudden change might make her argument less believable. They’d more likely think she was going through a rebellious phase than consider that she was in the right.

She would just have to deal with it for the time being. Once she was out of this place, she could focus on less pressing matters.

Pig tails in place, she shuffled out the bathroom. The muffled sound of an engine passed through the walls. The car was ready.

Passing by the living room where her mother chattered on about how Mr. Gregson, their neighbor, had been bringing strange women to his house ever since his wife had taken off on that business trip, Kristi made her exit. The only women Mr. Gregson had been bringing to his house were his cousins who’d been visiting for Easter Break and her mother knew so.

Still, there was little she could do about the rumor that would spread because of that lie. It would eventually be forgotten in a week or two after her mother found her newest victim.

The engine roared in her ears as she crawled into the backseat, blue backpack in hand. There wasn’t much need for a backpack in kindergarten of all stages, but she’d grabbed it before she could remember that fact.

Having to go through all those years of schooling again… She cringed. So much hard work, wasted.

The entire ride was spent in stifling silence. Kristi took slow, controlled breaths, ensuring they wouldn’t be heard over the rumbling motor. Thankfully, the school wasn’t too far.

Unclipping her seatbelt and ensuring the backpack sat securely on her shoulders, she slid out the door. And was hit by a sharp change in volume.

She staggered forward a bit, blinking at the sudden change. Had she been this loud at this age?

Dragging her gaze away from the swarming mass of children before her just long enough to close the car door, Kristi squared her shoulders. She’d dealt with raising children, then grandchildren. She could do this.

…

Two mind-numbing hours later, Kristi had come to the realization that the children weren’t the ones to be ‘put up with.’ It was the adults.

Years of raising and helping raise children helped her keep those around her preoccupied. Little stories or small talk about favorite animals could keep them talking for hours and most activities given to them allowed for socializing. Ensuring everyone in their little table was happy by making them take turns in sharing was the only part that was remotely difficult and even that was easily solved with a well-placed scolding look.

The adults, however, were a different matter. They only had one teacher as there was little specialization needed at this stage, but he had an assistant- most likely from one of those job shadowing programs- who seemed to be regretting his decision.

Brad Winsle was a name Kristi could faintly remember from a news station in her younger adult years. Probably found his passion down the line.

As it was, Brad spent half the time fending off the rapid fire questions from five year olds and the other half staring in horror at the mess of crafting supplies, Mr. Tennius doing little to sooth the distressed young man.

Mr. Tennius , whom Kristi only remembered for being her children’s teacher, looked much younger than her fuzzy memory remembered him and rightly so, it being 30 years prior to those memories.

Maybe it was the inexperience or his youth, but Mr. Tennius wasn’t as involved with the children as he had been. Or would be.

Watching him casually shoo away a child, the urge to shake him by the shoulders rose. Listen to them, she wanted to tell him, Listen to how Arianna wants to be an astronaut and how Brian wants to be a cat doctor. They might not remember this, but a part of them will remember the snub. They’ll lose a little of that light, of that hope for the future.

Really, neither of them were very good at their jobs and did little to entertain the children other than hand out paper and crayons. From the eyes of an experienced caretaker, it was painful to watch.

“Kristi?” the voice at her right broke through her morose mood, “What’d you think?” The rustle of paper.

Indistinguishable scribbles of haphazard color crayon markings laced the page. At the very center of it all were the colors red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and purple drawn in parallel lines with white, uncolored circles at each end. A rainbow.

Her lips widened into a smile, warm and fond. “I love it. I like the blue, it’s my favorite color, you know?”

A solemn nod. Yes, there was blue in the drawing.

Then as though there was lag between the time she gave the compliment and the time it was received, little Wanda beamed at her.

“Next time I’ll use more blue for you, ‘kay?” Wanda promised, gingerly turning the drawing around to inspect it again in a new light.

“If you want to, “Kristi agreed, giving one last smile before switching her attention to Zevran on her left, “What was it you were having trouble drawing?”

And so it went for the next 20 minutes of class until the bell rung, signaling the beginning of recess.

Slowly getting out of her seat and then waiting for any lingering students to leave the classroom, she made her way to Mr. Tennius’ desk.

“Yes?” came his inquiry, only glancing at her once to identify who she was before returning to his novel. The lack of interest was discouraging, but she squared her shoulders. It was now or never.

“I think- no, I am being abused, “she declared, carefully not looking in Mr. Winsle’s direction.

No reaction.

“Mr. Tennius?”

Had he not heard her?

“Mr. Tenn-“

“Yes, yes, I heard you, “he cut her off, voice cold. He looked even less interested than he had been this morning when talking with Wilson about colors.

He set the novel to the side, leaning to squint his eyes at her.

“Listen Ms. Lange, I’ve met your parents and they’re very nice people. I rather doubt they could bring themselves to hurt a fly, much less their own child, “he replied, not a grain on belief in his eyes.

“But they’ve locked me in my room for days and-“she remembered the bruises and cuts she had gotten through high school, none of which she could use to back up her argument since it hadn’t happened yet. But she didn’t want it to happen again just so she could have solid evidence against them!

He interrupted her, “Ah yes, I’ve heard of something like that. It’s called being grounded. Boy, “he sighed, leaning back, “you sure must have been spoiled to think a little alone time in your room is abuse.”

And there it was. She had been so hopeful this morning, completely sure she’d be believed. Her stomach sunk. So he wasn’t going to believe her? She had to go back?

Sure she could go to a different adult, but what if they thought the same? They would know her even less than Mr. Tennius would, so they would be even less emotionally invested than Mr. Tennius had been. If that was possible.

She’d been a fool. If it were her word again those of her parents, of course they would believe her parents. They still had their sparkling, clean reputation and would sometimes even volunteer to help with community service. Their reputation against hers, that of a probably spoiled five year old.

Adults were idiots. And so was she.

Of course it wouldn’t be that simple.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that’s chapter two! Hopefully next chapter is more eventful. T^T  
> But of the bright side, longer chapter! Hopefully, I’ll get somewhat used to the idea of writing a bit every day and the next one comes out sometime this month. XD


	3. Taken

Kristi sat on her 'bed,' which really was just a comforter spread out on the floor.

She rubbed her palms over her tear-stained cheeks. So much for 'going to an adult for help.' If this was the kind of support system her own children and grandchildren had had at school, heads would roll. How many other children may be suffering from abuse or bullying in her class or school?

Fury briefly surged in her chest at the thought of a child suffering as she had, but the tinging pain dragged her back to the harsh reality. If she wouldn't even help herself, what made her think she could do anything for others?

Kristi gingerly and slowly got to her feet, it'd be best to take care of her burns first. She braced herself for pain and carefully pulled off her tattered shirt, wincing at every move. Well, she extended the ruined shirt, best get some more use out of it.

Stiffly, Kristi staggered into the bathroom connected to her room and soaked the shirt in cool, faucet water. Careful to not make too much of a mess, Kristi wringed most of the water out before pressing the cold cloth to her largest burn.

She hissed in pain, legs folding under her. Her eyes watered and the droplets stuck to her eyelashes.

This wasn't her only burn, though. Couldn't neglect any of her new burns lest they worsen to second degree. Pulling the cloth away from her skin, Kristi searched the cabinet for any that cut into the cloth. Searching behind bottles upon bottles of the cheapest shampoo her parents could possibly find, she found some long forgotten nail clippers.

She tested it against the slightly thicker hems of the shirt and with a couple of snips they cut through. Perfect.

A fast glance at the mirror to gauge what size the squares needed to be and Kristi set to work. Cutting one large square for the burns at her side and a couple of squares half the size of the first, and she was done. Now she just needed to run them under cold water again.

Gently, Kristi worked at sticking the damp cloth to the burns. She… she would have to make some kind of battle plan, maybe there's a way of accelerating when her parents thought it to be okay to be out of the house by herself.

Her eyes watered and she sniffed. She would have to deal with this. This pain and these burns couldn't be faked. She was truly going to have to survive through this again. Except it might be worse this time around, the burns told her as much. First time around, they hadn't tried using heated iron until she'd started getting uppity in middle school.

She sobbed, her aches and pains goading her on. Mr. Tennius had kept his promise of keeping her accusation from her parents; however, others hadn't been so discreet. She shouldn't have pushed the issue so quickly. What had she been thinking, going to other teachers? Now here she was suffering the consequences.

It was scary, having no support system. Kristi was so used to having a husband and children and friends all willing to back her up should she get hurt. Or even that one time she'd just been insulted. She missed karaoke nights and holiday shopping and silly rap battles. She sobbed.

Kristi just wanted to go home.

…

A couple on her left side along with some cuts, few more at her back, one that had accidently caught at her upper arm…

Kristi sat on her bathroom counter, examining her burns. They would scar, she didn't have Vaseline on hand to keep them moisturized and on their way to healing. Should she manage a way to acquire some, she might end up with less scars this time around, but these ones are here to stay.

If she wanted to get some, or anything really, she would need funds. There wasn't a chance in hell that her parents would be willing to offer any help.

How could a five year old obtain any money, though? Most ways either required the backing of a parental figure or access to resources she didn't have, like the kitchen and ingredients. Maybe…

Maybe if she could visit a friend's house, she'll be able to access their kitchen. Not right away, but later and under 'adult supervision.' Even something small like cookies could sell, especially if she gave her best Hopeful Look at passing strangers. That look had worked even after she'd lost her baby fat, even on demons and angels. Hah.

Not to mention, her cookies had sold well before. All those years of cooking professionally and being the author of a bestselling cookbook had to count for something. They had to, after all the time it took her to learn.

She could start by selling the cookies a dollar each and once her little business was more established she could up the price with excuses of having to pay for high school exams or something. And she wasn't limited to just cookies… there was a wide array of baked goods that could be sold.

She didn't have to focus only of baked goods, but they were the easiest for a girl to sell. The town wall all too used to having little girl scouts selling near grocery stores, one more little girl added to the mix wouldn't draw any suspicion. And if they thought her cookies were for some type of cause, well, it was her cause.

First though, she would need some friends.

…

Kristi had always loved children. They were so forgiving and willing to learn if you made it fun; though, you'd have to adjust to their learning style, or course.

Oh but when Kristi had found out that Lucifer had secretly a soft spot for kids, she'd started dragging him to volunteer with her at the museum a town over. And when that had closed, to the local care center. Sure, the matron had been dubious at first, but grew to tolerate the idea of a male around young children. Sexism came in many forms, who knew?

But if there was one silver lining to being in this stage of her life is that Kristi was surrounded by children at their cutest phase. Their faces chubby with baby fat and eyes full of wonder. Her chest ached for her family.

She drew a breath and slowly exhaled, acknowledging the ache and moving past it. They'd been occurring since Kristi had jumped back, but gradually, they were lessening in intensity. She doubted they'd ever stop, though.

Kristi turned her attention back to little Wanda who'd been waiting so patiently for Kristi to return from her small trip down memory lane. Young she may be in body, but her mind still tended to wander.

"Sorry, "she apologized, "What had been your question?"

"What do you wanna be when you grow up, Kristi?"

Krisi blinked. Every now and then she'd forget that she wasn't a wrinkly old woman. Kristi was a five-year-old girl, in body at least. And she… didn't have to go into a culinary field again if she didn't want to. She would try something new…

"Maybe… Maybe I could be a teacher?" She considered, voice fill with wonder. It was a strange thought, that she had a whole lifetime ahead of her. And who knows, she might not live as long this time around, either through her parents or some accidental timing involving supernatural beings. Either way, why not try something new?

Wanda gave her a solemn nod, "You're good at teaching. You can do it."

Kristi directed a fond smile at her. Wanda was right. All her years had taught her many things, including how to teach others. And she liked children. Why not?

"Hey Kristi, where'd you get that?" a curious, little voice inquired. Johnny pointed at her. The question attracted the attention of the rest of their little group at the table and directed their gazes toward her.

"Hmm?" her eyes followed the point of inquiry, the burn on her arm. "Oh, I got burned while cooking. Mom was trying to show me how." She turned her attention to them, "Cooking can be dangerous, be careful."

The group 'ooh'-ed in understanding and returned to the drawings on the table. Kristi privately winced, calling that woman 'mom' was probably the worst kind of torture, but calling her 'mother' earned her strange, squinty looks from her peers. Best let these kinds of things fall under their radar, there wasn't much they would be able to do to help.

Kristi glanced at her visible burn. She had decided against trying to hide it by wearing long sleeved shirts in the humid atmosphere that spring was known for. It wouldn't be too odd, all kids had stories of this or that tumble that happened when they were younger.

"Kristiii…" Zevran whined, "I don't get it!"

"What part are you not getting?" she ask, an easy smile gracing her lips.

"Everything!" He grouched. Kristi let out a soft laugh, so much like her grandchildren at this age and her children before them. It was nice to know children remain the same, regardless of how much the world changes.

"Well, then, "she shifted to face him a little better, "Let's start by looking at what the instructions say…"

Yes, she wanted to get out of her parent's house and making friends was a means of doing so, but to make a friend, she would have to be one first. It wasn't very hard, she had a great example to follow. After all, who else can claim to have been the devil's best friend than the wonderful woman she'd called a friend?

…

A tiny, tanned fist tugged at one of her pig tails. Should she cut her hair now?

She was once again sitting on the bathroom counter, starting at herself in the mirror. Kristi exhaled heavily, it didn't feel right to do it just yet. Her short hair had been a sign of how she was almost out, a sign of hope. Here, where she had more than ten years to go? Not at all fitting.

Not that she had anything to cut it with than an old pair of nail clippers…

Kristi tugged up her shirt to inspect the scarring burn. She would've thought burns took longer to scar, but then again, she'd never seen any this size heal naturally in decades. Raphael never did stop healing anything that looked remotely serious on her or the other humans of the group, especially once they'd begun growing their gray hairs. Something about humans looking even more delicate with age.

Turning around to let her legs dangle off the edge, Kristi jumped down. Being locked up in her room was so boring. Other than the constant hunger and the miniscule amount of homework given in class, she had nothing to do in here. She could've tried getting a library card if they didn't require parent permission.

She sighed. Everything seemed to require parent permission.

It made sense seeing as she was five years old, but it was so aggravating to have no control over anything in her life.

Any attempts at visiting friends were dashed with a simple 'no' from her parents and there went her chances at anything. School and this room were the only places she ever got to see now. It was a surprise she'd been in a park when she'd 'come to,' so maybe they had used to let her out occasionally.

Now, Kristi had no chance to try to reach any other adults than those she had already approached. She would've appreciated at least being able to grab something to pass the time with. In this room with only a comforter, a box of clothes, and the stuff in her backpack? Nothing to do, really. And she'd organized the stuff in the bathroom ten times already; by color, name, expiration date, and anything else she could think of.

All those little, childhood rebellions suddenly made sense. At least in the beginning when the punishments weren't too bad, it was all she could do to thwart boredom. Might've been why they started letting her out, but then she'd unknowingly ruined that with her tattling.

Hopefully, their next 'peace offering' wouldn't be too far away. Who knows, maybe they'll visit the park again and she'll be able to speak with little Natalie or little Laila for more than a few sentences at a time.

But…

Kristi peered at the window. Maybe she didn't have to wait after all.

…

Lingering only until her pitiful 'dinner' was delivered to avoid suspicion, Kristi gnawed at a corner of the half sandwich before stuffing it and a water bottle into her backpack. She slung it on her back. She was ready.

Kristi hovered near the window as a thought stuck her.

The bathroom had a window, too. And would be less visible to anyone opening the door. Definitely a better choice.

Course altered, Kristi snuck in and gently closed the door behind her. No lock, but that was fine.

She crawled up onto the cabinets and cautiously inched the window open. Ducking her head out to ensure no curious passersby, Kristi jumped out.

"Oomph," She grunted. She should exercise more often.

And she would if it wouldn't starve her first. Kristi straightened her stance. Now to get out of this neighborhood.

She adopted a hasty stride, careful to not walk too fast. Wouldn't want anyone to suspect her of being out and about without parent approval.

Not until having a few blocks between the house and herself, did she allow herself to relax. Kristi took in her new surroundings. The houses were designed differently here.

Ah, Laila lived around here, hadn't she? And hadn't Johnny also lived on the same street?

Maybe she could pass by Johnny's house? Not for too long, of course, but maybe she could get some food from Johnny's house. It's not like she had the money to survive on the streets. She had barely any food- a snack, really- and two bottles of water. Not enough to even survive a day.

Mind made up, she headed towards where she vaguely knew the street to be.

It took her half an hour to find the street. Turns out the street had been further left than she'd originally thought, but she found it, along with their houses. Laila didn't know her too well yet, not like Johnny who she talked with every school day and sometimes on the Sundays she's allowed to go to church.

She circled his house, peeking through the windows until she found him in a small, yellow room. He played with a combination of dolls and action figures, all laid out in various fighting poses.

She knocked on the window, glancing around to ensure no one else had heard.

Johnny perked up and worriedly glanced around the room. He visibly sighed in relief at the sight of her. Thought it was a ghost, maybe? Kristi beamed at him, waving him over.

He scampered over to the window and spoke. Kristi frowned.

"I can't hear you through the window, can you open it?" she explained and once he clearly didn't understand, tried using hand gestures. Johnny cupped his hand around his mouth.

"…sti, ca… y… …now?" he shouted, some sound managing to pass through the glass. Kristi panicked. What was he thinking?! No doubt his parents heard him, too!

She made frantic, slashing motions with her arms, trying to get him to pipe down. This had been a horrible idea!

His parents came running through the door and her stomach flopped. Confusion and surprise dominated their faces, and as recognition flashed through their eyes, they mouthed her name.

Shit. Kristi took off. Away from Johnny's house and away from her own. They're probably calling the police right now. Or worse, her parents.

What had she been thinking? Johnny was just five years old! There was very little he could've help her with!

Kristi didn't dare look back, she just kept running. Adrenaline spurred her on, and muddied her sense of time. By the time she noticed the crumbling state of the buildings around her, Kristi's legs were about ready to give out under her.

Where-? Oh, she'd run to the other side of town. How long had she been running?

Kristi tugged at one of her pig tails. Maybe- maybe she'd be able to cut her hair soon.

The adrenaline seeped out of her muscles, leaving her exhausted and sore. Kristi sagged under the weight of her own body. It felt like each of her limbs weighed a ton and a half.

Her legs trembled. She won't last long out here.

She should get to some kind of shelter, or at least something safer than being out in the open like this. It wouldn't be safe to sleep on the sidewalk.

An engine roared behind her. Kristi swerved around and watched the headlights of a vehicle make its way closer. She squinted her eyes against the increasing harshness of the light.

Her brain drudged to a slow stop. She spent a moment peering stupidly at the light. Should she hide?

She made to back away from the sidewalk, maybe to hide in the shadows of the apartment complex behind her, but her tired limbs slowed her escape. The car halted, temporarily blinding Kristi with the light's intensity and her lagging pace paused in confusion.

Kristi squinted, trying to make out the vehicle through the light. Was it some concerned strangers or-?

Her breath caught. That car- she knew that car! That was-

Her parents.

Had she run in a straight line?! How had they found her?

She tried to run. She had to get away-

A hand seized her arm. Claw-like. Her mother.

Their dark silhouettes. So very dark against the light.

Kristi struggled against the grip. She had to get away-

Nails dug into her skin. Everything tilted sideways. Her world grayed around the edges. What-?

A ringing echoed. Where did it come from?

Another hand- thickerrougher- clamped at her shoulder. Something dripped down her face. The taste of iron. She had to… get… aw a y…

The floor was gone. She was being carried. Her vision darkened. Was she… in the trunk?

"…luck… …etting out… …ere." A male voice. The trunk slammed shut.

And all was dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that happened. X3
> 
> Any suggestions on what you'd like to happen next??


End file.
